Amazon
kfreewriting
A-Argus Books
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: W & B Publishers & Argusbooks
ISBN-10: 9781635541373
Type: Fiction
Pages: 450
Copyright: Nov. 29, 2018
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
There are God Fathers, but God is the Father....
Alexander Marzonie had led a frivolous life all of his youth. Fast cars, women, money and no worries. With the burden and responsibility resting on his older brother and a close friend, Alexander thought very little about the family and accountability. Then suddenly everything is thrust upon his shoulders. Could he manage to hold up the family and protect them? From an inner realization that he has to head the Family he changes and becomes hard and callous. The carefree feelings he had as a youth are buried under a layer of guilt; until Victoria Moore comes into his life.
Victoria has led a very sheltered and lonely life. She is shielded from the cruelties of the world by her mother and brother and is protected from her true identity. Yet she begins to desire for more. She craves for the excitement she reads about in classic books and sees in old black and white films. However, the adventure she craves will come at a price that she is not prepared for. She is thrown into a life that she has only seen in movies. That life will shake her to the core and she once again yearns for the quiet yet safe life she once had.
Alexander Marzonie had led a frivolous life all of his youth. Fast cars, women, money and no worries. With the burden and responsibility resting on his older brother and a close friend, Alexander thought very little about the family and accountability. Then suddenly everything is thrust upon his shoulders. Could he manage to hold up the family and protect them? From an inner realization that he has to head the Family he changes and becomes hard and callous. The carefree feelings he had as a youth are buried under a layer of guilt; until Victoria Moore comes into his life.
Victoria has led a very sheltered and lonely life. She is shielded from the cruelties of the world by her mother and brother and is protected from her true identity. Yet she begins to desire for more. She craves for the excitement she reads about in classic books and sees in old black and white films. However, the adventure she craves will come at a price that she is not prepared for. She is thrown into a life that she has only seen in movies. That life will shake her to the core and she once again yearns for the quiet yet safe life she once had.
Excerpt
GOD THE FATHER
CHAPTER 1
VICTORIA MOORE
It had been a long day and I was very tired I realized, as I walk back to my desk from the cloakroom with my coat, hat and lunch bag in my hand. I shook my head still thinking of the fool I had made of myself at the meeting. All I had to do was serve coffee to some of the top executives and take notes. I could not even do that well. I thought again of the hot coffee I clumsily spilled on Mr. Peterson, who is head of the company as well as my immediate boss. He was furious. I knew something was going to come of it and it wouldn’t be good for my future.
Even as I clean up the mess and tried to get out of there quickly, I let the large coffee pot tumble off the tray. I had disrupted the whole meeting. I was already an outcast. I thought I could turn things around by making a good impression at the meeting. Although I had seniority, I had been passed over time and time again to sit in on meetings. Mr. Peterson always picked the pretty girls or the spunky ones. There were plenty of both in our office, African American, Caucasian, and Hispanic. I was biracial and not a good specimen of that. My completion was not light creamy like most biracial children. Mine was bright and pale. My eyes were a grayish hazel color. Sometimes I look spooky to myself. I could easily be mistaken for Caucasian if my hair was not reddish brown, thick and sometimes frizzy. I was a mess and I felt like the ugliest person on earth.
I didn’t have friends. I had nothing in common with anyone it seemed. I was in my early twenties, yet I didn’t act like people my age. I like old classic books and movies. I didn’t date or go out to parties. I didn’t dress radically. I preferred blouses and skirts compared to tight jeans. I was considered the office joke. If you needed a laugh, just look at Victoria Moore. I had gotten used to the snickers and giggles as I went by. I couldn’t change it, so I ignored it. I couldn’t just quit my job and I knew it would be the same at another job.
However, today I felt my lowest. As I set my lunch bag down to pull on my coat, I wondered if I’d have a job tomorrow. Mr. Peterson had followed me out of the meeting literally ignoring me and calling a very gorgeous Cindy James to take my place. She was everything I wasn’t. She was tall and slender compared to my five feet one inch and slim. She was a black girl with dark caramel skin that said she was. Her hair was shoulder length and shiny with not a hair out of place. She knew how to walk, what to wear and what to say. As she walked past me she gave me a smirk as if saying she could easily get my job.
I began to pull on my coat overwhelmed when I spied the note on my desk. It was on plain white copy paper. In large black marker letters, it read ‘Don’t cry over spilled milk, whoops I mean coffee!’ I looked around in disbelieve at the few associates who remained. Some were giggling or trying hard not to laugh. I felt humiliated. I picked up my belongings quickly only wanting to get out of there.
As I left the large room that held our desk, I did not look at any of them. I hated them. I hated my job. I hated my life. I walk quickly toward the hallway. Just at the entrance, I saw the same note posted on the bulletin board for everyone to see. I walked faster wanting to run and trying with all that was in me to keep back the tears. As I nearly ran I saw on every bulletin board I passed that note posted and again on the door of the elevator. I did not take the elevator down but ran down the four flights of steps to the garage.
I rushed over to where I park my car and stopped staring at the same note on my windshield. I began to cry then wondering why they hated me so much. Was it because I was so different? I cried the entire drive home. From the city to Winston Park took no more than thirty minutes and when I turn into the driveway it was dark. I tried to dry my tears and pull myself together. It did not work. I couldn’t think of what I would do. I couldn’t go back. How could I face them? I glanced at my house. I had forgotten to turn on the porch light. I hated to go to the porch when it was dark.
It was a very large house, two stories, five bedrooms, three baths, a den as well as a library, a very large dining room and a huge eat-in kitchen. There was a large basement the length of the first floor, an attic and a few secret rooms. It was our family home, my mothers, my brother Bill and mine. I was fourteen when mom died. Bill was nine-teen and continued to raise me there, and after I turned twenty he left me the house. I never moved. It was comfortable and familiar there.
I pull myself out of the car reluctant that night dreading for the first time being alone. I wished again that my mother was alive. I missed her terribly still. I walked to the door my keys in my hand. Again I wished I had turned on the light. I had to feel my way for the keyhole and just as I found it a voice behind me said.
“Victoria” It was a man’s voice, deep and unfamiliar
I spun around looking up at a face covered by the night shadows. I automatically started to scream, when a hand was placed over my mouth. He pulled me close to him, and then said again.
“Victoria, I am a friend of Bill’s do not scream. I won’t hurt you” he removed his hand slowly.
I didn’t scream but stared up at him frightened. He reached past me and turn the key in the lock, open the door and brought me in with him. Inside I stepped away from him quickly turning on the light. I stared up at him and he down at me. He was very tall and handsome, his face seemed familiar. He was Caucasian with dark hair that fell carelessly over his shoulders and forehead. He wore a waist length, black leather jacket, black turtleneck shirt, and jeans. The jacket was slightly open and I could see what look like a holster with a gun inside. I drew further away from him then. He did not stop me. I watched alarmed as he dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. I was sure he would pull out his gun and that I had let a burglar in my house. Instead, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. It was then that I remembered crying my eyes out and my face was still wet with tears.
At that moment there was a slight tap at the door, then it was opened quickly. I gasped in delight to see my brother, and then other people followed him in. Someone carried a girl who seemed to be about my age who was hurt badly. There was blood on her face and clothes. Following them was a man in worse shape than she. I immediately ran to Bill burying my face against him turning away from the scene.
“Vickie everything will be okay. You believe me don’t you?” Bill said reassuringly.
I nodded yes, still clinging to him, remembering the closeness we shared growing up. He had always been my protector, always keeping me from hurt, harm, and danger. Then I heard the other man began to give out orders. Telling someone to find a room for the girl and to put their cars in the garage. He asked Bill where a phone was and Bill replied instantly. I was trembling wondering what was happening. Bill pulled me from him slowly. I looked up at him alarmed.
“Sis I need your help. We need your help. We need a safe place for a few weeks and we have nowhere to go but here. This is the only safe place.”
I nodded to Bill quickly knowing I would never turn him away and it was still his house too.
“Bill, have Dollie take your sister upstairs. I need your help. You can talk later.”
I glanced over at him then a bit outdone. He was ordering Bill around in his own home. He was acting as if my house was his to do what he wished. I didn’t like him or the authority he had taken. I didn’t like him at all. I didn’t voice it but went with Bill, who himself deposited me in my room and shut the door. When I immediately open the door to look out another man was there, not to watch over me I was sure but to make sure I stayed put.
And that I did. I waited two hours for Bill to come up to talk to me. Bill did not come, but a nice older gentleman came and brought my dinner. It was beautiful and like nothing I’d ever been served. Somewhere in my house, he must have found a serving tray, with a carving of flowers around the sides. On the tray was a delicious looking steak, a baked potato, with sour cream and chives and a Caesar salad with everything I liked on it.
And then there was a small vase with a live flower in it. I realized it was one of my lilies from the flower pot in the den. I was too hungry to question him and afterward I was too exhausted to wait any longer on Bill. I crawl into bed fully clothes and instantly fell asleep.
|
